Fran was already in her room and shutting the door. "Let it go to voicemail!" she called, and then she closed the door.

Molly wasn't quite ready for bed. She hadn't had too much to drink; Fran had chased her vodka diet with her screwdriver and spent the rest of the night somewhat sloshed.

Besides, tomorrow was full of classes. Molly doubted she'd have much time to come back to the apartment between the oh-so exciting Introductory Horticulture course, the breathtaking History of Medicine class, and the action-packed Western Civilizations section. And after classes, she had an adviser meeting and the fund-raising meeting in the evening. It was a full day.

And there were still things to do. There was something that had to do with her experience just before she left with Fran for the bars. Something about taking her head off, eating herself out.

"That's right," she said to herself. "I was going to shave."

Molly looked over to the bookshelf. Gold lettering on the leatherbound tome glinted in the streetlights through the window. The Book of Division. Already ideas were forming in her mind.

She grabbed it and took it back to her room and shut the door.

"I bet they never had trimming pubes in mind when they wrote this thing," she laughed as she sat down on her bed.

The pages looked vaguely alchemical, with scrawls all over the pages and odd geometric shapes behind the text. The writing was entirely in French. From what she could understand, the first few chapters described "La Bete," the supernatural force that allowed the separation of body parts. These were followed by a short spell section and a large index, which seemed to reference spells Molly didn't see in the Book of Division.

In the spell section the left page showed a basic human figure and a line through the body at the separation the spell would create. On the right page, various incantations were spelled out in illuminated text; some were for men specifically, some for women, and some for the caster herself. Molly flipped through the pages, looking at the illustrations and determining which would be best.

"Ah, here we go. 'Le corps au demi.'"

On the page, the line went through the figure's waist. Molly looked to the opposite page and found the incantation for casting the spell on oneself.

Bete, venez-ici

Coupe moi en demi!

As before, there was nothing at first. The room remained still. Molly lifted her shirt and looked down at her waist, and saw nothing.

"Maybe," she wondered, "it takes longer to separate if there's more to get through."

She began to undress, and had just thrown her bra into the hamper when she checked again and saw a line spread around her waistline. Still seated on her bed, she took a deep breath. It hadn't exactly felt fantastic when her head had fallen into the sink.

"Alright Mols, nice and easy this time."

She planted both hands on either side of her lap and pushed. Her upper body lifted, but she still felt her legs sitting on the bed. Molly turned around and set herself down on her waist stump. Sure enough, as she looked at her lower body, the division was covered in skin as if it had always been.

"God," she breathed, uncrossing her legs. "This is almost weirder than detaching my head."

Slowly, allowing for the change in weight, she stood up and turned her lower half around. She unbuckled her belt and slid the jeans down her legs.

Her legs. Her slender, voluptuous legs. They surprised her when they stepped out of the jeans. She'd spent so much time looking at her pussy, her breasts, her stomach with her head off to notice her legs. From her perspective, they were perfect, tapered just as they should be at her knees and led up into a pair of sultry hips. Molly looked down over the edge of the bed and, at the same time, brought one of her feet up to the edge of the bed, peeled the sock from it.

Her feet, too, were something else. She wiggled her toes as she held her right foot in her left hand. Something instinctive moved in her; she bent down and sucked her toes. A pang of pleasure shot through her, through her upper body propped up on her blankets and her almost-naked lower body standing in front of her.

"Oh dear," she said sarcastically to her lower half, standing attentively in front of her. She took her toes out of her mouth and began to shuck her panties off. "I may end up doing more than just shaving," she told her legs.

A minute later, she'd moved from the bedroom to the bathroom. Her lower half sat naked, legs splayed, on the toilet lid and her upper body "stood" in front of it. She squirted some shaving cream into her hand and rubbed it on the pussy, her pussy, in front of her. It felt cold and Molly, both halves of her, shuddered. She reached down to the shaving kit on her pile of clothes and grabbed for the razor, but her fingers only wrapped around her vibrator.

Then she realized; the razor was in her room.

"Shit," Molly muttered. She walked on her hands over to the door and peeked out. Did she hear snoring from Fran's room? She hoped so as she moved quick as she could across the hall and dove into her room.

The razor wasn't in the drawer she usually kept it in, and it wasn't on her desk. She didn't even remember grabbing it before she went to the bathroom. Frustrated, she hand-walked over to the desk and plopped her torso up on her chair. In the bathroom, she sat her legs up and tapped her foot absentmindedly. Where had she left it?

"Ugh," came a sound from the hallway. There was the creak of a door and the shuffling of feet. "Molly, you in there?" Fran asked, tapping on the bathroom door.

Molly froze, knuckles white around the arms of her chair. Not only was Fran trying to get into the bathroom where her horny lower body sat expectant, but now, she realized, her key to the bathroom door was beside her tapping foot, and the door had locked behind her when she came back to the bedroom.

"I gotta ralph, Molly. Open...open up, dammit." Fran sounded defeated, halfhearted, tired and drunk. Molly heard her shuffle down the hallway to the kitchen, then the rustling of a trash liner, and then a heave, and then a splat. Then, she heard snoring.

Molly sighed, relieved. But what to do about her lower half? It still sat on the toilet. She crossed her legs, felt the shaving cream ooze between her thighs. The cream was starting to itch. She also had to pee.

"It never rains," she whispered, swinging herself down from the chair, "but it pours."

She peered around the door frame and confirmed that Fran had gone down on the kitchen floor. Her roommate's feet poked out from behind the kitchen counter; she was out cold. Molly hand-walked over to the bathroom door and wiggled the knob.

It was locked.

For a second, she wanted to give up. She'd either have to get Fran to open the door, or call university maintenance, or break the door. How would she explain being naked and split in half, with shaving cream on her pussy, on opposite sides of a locked door? Without thinking, she stood and began pacing, or at least her lower body did in the bathroom.

She felt her foot collide with her pile of clothes and heard keys skittering across the linoleum. Just like that, an idea hit her. What if she pushed the key under the door with her foot? It was worth a shot.

Tentatively she stuck out her foot and began feeling around for the key.

In the bathroom, she pinched the keyring between her toes and shuffled over to the door. With a clumsy kick, she slid it through the gap under the door to her waiting hand.

"You and I make a pretty good team," she said to her lower body as she opened the door. She immediately scratched her pussy where the shaving cream had begun to burn and continued to hand-walk past it to the shower. In the absence of her own razor, Molly figured, she'd just use the one from the shower.

Snatching it up she turned and guided her lower half to the shower, where she helped herself sit down. The view of her own groin was incredible, even better than when her head came off. This time, her hands were also separated from her genitals, along with her head. She had the full range of motion that a lover might have with all the sensitivity that the owner of the equipment before her would exercise.

Actually trimming her hair took just a few moments. Her lower half squirmed under her own hand as the cold metal scraped over her most sensitive areas, but after just two or three deft strokes, she was done and admiring her handiwork.

"There we go," she said, wiping herself with a wet hand towel. "So hot even I want to fuck it." She withdrew a bottle of lube from her shaving kit and poured some on her pussy. "In fact," she added, grabbing her vibrator, "I think I will."

She rolled her lower half onto its front, as if she were laying on her stomach, and plunged the vibrator into her pussy, turning on the hot water as she did so. The sensation was amazing. Her angle of attack was perfect and caught her G-spot on the first thrust. For a moment, she lay bisected on the shower floor, panting as new colors burst through her field of vision, pumping the vibrator in and out of herself from behind. She moved over to her waist stump and leaned over, her plump breasts brushing her ass cheeks as she crammed the vibrator into her pussy. After a few minutes, she pulled it out and rolled over. Hands on her ass, she pushed herself to a standing position.

"This is great," she told herself, "but it could be so much better."

She widened her stance a little and, with her hands guiding her lower body, lowered her pussy onto the out-thrust vibrator she held at eye level. For a fraction of a second she wondered how weird she looked, cut in half, humping the vibrator she held up with her own hand. But then the fraction of a second was gone, and all that Molly cared about was how great it felt.

She could see clearly her lips folding inside herself as she lowered her legs onto the vibrator, and how they pulled at it when she stood again, as if they didn't want it to leave. Molly leaned in and began to lick her clit.

That sent her over the edge. She screamed louder than she'd planned and completely lost control of her bladder. Her tongue still snaking around her clit, vibrator still plunging in and out of her, Molly pissed all over her breasts with sheer excitement. The white-hot explosion in her crotch, in front of her face, spread throughout her entire body, from her toes to her fingers to the top of her head. And then, too quickly, the utter bliss evaporated.

Legs weak, she collapsed onto her upper body. She wrapped her arms around her lower half and laid it on the shower floor, then threw herself over it and turned the water off. Exhausted, Molly shut the vibrator off and fought briefly to stave off sleep before she gave in.

The next morning, she woke up cold and bleary-eyed, using her ass as a pillow. She felt her nipples poking the backs of her thighs as she stretched. Halfheartedly, Molly rolled off her legs to rest on her stump on the shower floor.

"Much as I'd love to explore you even more," she said to her ass, "I'm afraid I should be in one piece this morning." She reached for the Book of Division and added, "Don't want Fran to think I'm abusing the book or anything."

She laid the book open on her ass and gave it a longing squeeze. Then she began flipping through the yellow pages before resting on the one she'd found last night.

Retournez-vous, bete

Et me faites complete.

Molly stood, making sure she was the right way round on her waist, making sure she wouldn't fall apart if she tripped and, satisfied she'd stay in one piece, stepped out of the shower and threw a robe around herself.

Still a little drowsy, she ambled over to the mirror and brushed her teeth. As she started on her upper row, she threw a look at the book on the counter. A lot of questions bounced around in her head as she thumbed through the pages with her free hand. Who wrote it? Why? How did Fran find it? Who sold it to her? Did Fran have plans for it?

"I bet you made a lot of French girls happy," she said to the leather tome as she spit into the sink. Molly rinsed her brush and put it back in the medicine cabinet, then turned the sink off and headed for her room.

She stopped at the door. There was still a pouring sound, like the sink was still going.

Confused, she looked around. She'd just shut the sink off, and the shower wasn't running. Was something wrong with the toilet?

She whipped the heavy lid from the back of the toilet, but everything was in working order. As she listened, Molly realized that the sound was coming from inside the bowl. She laughed to herself; she knew exactly what it was.

Slowly, she lifted the lid. Stuck to the bottom of the lid was a neatly trimmed pussy, pissing into the bowl. Somehow Fran had detached hers and put it there.

"God, I was looking all over for that," Fran said, clearly hung over, stepping into the bathroom and rubbing her eyes. "Put it there before we left; figured it would be a good idea if I was gonna drink all night." She grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wiped it, then peeled it off the lid. Molly stood by, staring. Fran glanced over at her, then back to her detached pussy in her hand. "This is a little awkward."

"No, I was just thinking how that's actually a really good idea," Molly said. "How did you get it to stick? I mean, my head didn't stick to anything when I took it off."

Fran turned her pussy over in her hand, admiring it. "I just pushed it up against there, and it stuck. Maybe it's different for different people?" She folded it in half and stuck it into her pocket, moaning softly.

"You're not going to put it back on?"

"No time," she said, stepping out into the hallway and throwing a jacket on. "I'm late for breakfast with Paul. I'll let you know how it goes!"

"Don't give him anything a gentleman wouldn't take from you," Molly called after her. Then she turned back grinning to the Book of Division to find the spell for detaching her pussy.